


Savior or Destroyer?

by xoxoBFire



Category: Castle Rock (TV)
Genre: Dark, Death, F/M, Gore, Gun Violence, Just real dark, Just really gruesome stuff here, Miscarriage, Probably rape/noncon at some point, Psychological Torture, Psychological control, The kid is not nice, Violence, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 18:24:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18287777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxoBFire/pseuds/xoxoBFire
Summary: When they pull the Kid out of the hole, Warden Porter leaves it to the on-site psychologist, Dr. Abagail Clover to find out anything she can about him. But it proves increasingly difficult to figure him out, especially with her own troubles at home to distract her. Will the Kid save her, or just destroy her? (Kind of a slow start, but gets way better, I promise!)(This story kind of follows the show, but it’s a little loose.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic for Castle Rock. I’ve been writing fan fiction for 15+ years, but this is the first time in a long time that I’ve posted anything. Enjoy!
> 
> Please, please be aware that there’s going to be stuff here that’s basically as dark as it gets. Please check out the tags and don’t continue if you think something might cause you harm to read.

Doctor Abigail Clover mostly ignored the sound of the staff room door at Shawshank Prison opening and instead focused on the newspaper she was reading. Of course it was just the same bad news as it always was. Nothing good ever happened in Castle Rock.

“...found him in a cage,” one of the guards said, getting Abigail’s attention. She laid the paper down on the table she sat at and peered at the two men who shared the small room with her.

One of the guards noticed her watching and beamed. “Oh yeah Doc, this kid is like a jackpot for you.”

Abagail took her small reading glasses off and placed them on top of the forgotten newspaper. “You said he was found in a cage? I assume you mean something different than a cell?”

The other guard nodded. “Totally different. They found him at the bottom of an empty water tank, probably smelling like ass and looking like death.”

“Lucky for you they’re cleaning him up right now,” the first guard said. Officer Warren was his name, she suddenly remembered. “From what I heard, he’s your basket case now. And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have some head doctor picking his brains.” His last sentence dripped with sarcasm.

Abigail quickly checked the dainty watch on her wrist before standing and gathering her glasses and newspaper.

“Thank you for your time gentlemen, but it sounds like I have work to do,” She told them as she folded her paper and tucked it under her arm. The two guards barely gave her a last glance as she exited the room.

Dr. Clover walked through the halls in the direction of her makeshift office. ‘ _What kind of monster would keep a person locked away in a cage inside of a building where they already keep people in cages_?’ She thought as she walked through the barren halls. The buzz of the dim fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling filled her ears as she tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever laid ahead.

‘ _He’ll probably be unlike anything I’ve ever seen_ ,’ Abagail thought. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her torso as a shiver quickly ran up her spine. It was the middle of winter in Maine but she would bet that the prison hardly ever raised the heat above sixty.

Finally she came to her office; It held a small desk, some chairs and a medical doctor’s exam table within a cramped room, but at least it was hers. She settled behind her desk and sighed deeply, waiting for her newest patient.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the slightly opened door of the psychology office.

She opened her mouth to invite them in but two guards were already shoving their way inside. Between them, and towering above them even though he was hunched, was Dr. Clover’s newest patient.

He was clearly underweight and indeed showered, and seemed clean shaven as well. She noted that he was avoiding her gaze and appeared to be trying to make himself smaller, as impossible as that was to do. Abagail rose from her desk, walking around it towards the group and noticed that the guards still had their fingers gripped tightly around the thin man’s arms.

“Thank you gentlemen, I can take it from here,” She said in her most professional voice while also pointedly staring at their fingers.

“Oh no ma’am, we were instructed to keep an eye on him,” One of the guards replied.

Abagail frowned, tilting her head back slightly so she could better look the guard in the eyes. “Then I have to insist that the two of you station yourselves outside of my door,” She said firmly.

She could see the guards deliberating, glancing at each other with questioning looks on their faces. After a few moments one of them shrugged and released the arm he was grasping, and the other followed suit, but not without giving the prisoner a small shove before exiting.

The kid, ‘ _though he’s not really a kid_ ’, she had time to think, stumbled forward and came within inches of crashing into her and likely knocking her over. Abagail reflexively looked up at him, craning her neck back because the top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulders.

In the same moment he looked down at her, his mismatched eyes finally meeting hers. Abagail’s breath hitched in her throat as he watched her from under his heavy brows and for a moment it felt as if she couldn’t move. The whole exchange only lasted a few seconds before her patient released his figurative hold on her and stepped back, adverting his gaze and looking nervous again.

‘ _What the hell was that?_ ’ She thought in the safety and privacy of her own head. She took a deep breath, careful to keep it quiet so he wouldn’t know just how much he shook her, and turned her professionalism back on.

“I’m very sorry about the way they treated you,” Abagail said as she made her way around her desk. She could feel his intense eyes on her again, likely trying to figure out if she was really sorry or not. When she got to the chair behind her desk, she noticed the kid was still standing awkwardly in the same spot, his right shoulder raised slightly and his whole posture slumped forward.

“You can take a seat,” Abagail said, gesturing with her hand at the two chairs across from her. Her patient peered at her without meeting her gaze completely before slowly moving towards the chair, and she watched as his long legs seemed to go on forever. He sat and immediately began to inspect the various plaques and pictures on the wall behind Abagail.

“Now I know this is going to be hard, but we’re going to have to talk about what happened to you,” The doctor said, distractedly shuffling through the papers on her desk and realizing that she was never given any kind of file on her new patient. She frowned a little and when she looked back up, she noticed her patient studying her face. He almost looked away but seemed to change his mind when she offered him an inviting smile. Still, he didn’t meet her gaze.

“But that can wait until after introductions, don’t you think?” Abagail said, still holding her smile in place. “I’m Dr. Clover,” She paused, waiting for his reply.

It was few long seconds before he said anything at all and when he did he mumbled it so softly she almost didn’t catch it. But it was a name she’d been hearing her whole life.

“Abagail.” His sunken eyes met hers and she was stopped in her tracks again. All thought process came to a grinding halt within her mind, except for a singular question. ‘ _How does he know my first name_?’

His brown and blue eyes tore away from hers and jerkily moved back to the plaques behind her.

A breath that she didn’t know she was holding escaped her lips as her brain turned back on. It quickly dawned on her that her first name was on her degrees that he kept studying. Of course that’s how he knew. ‘ _It feels like he’s always known_ ,’ A voice in the back of her head murmured.

“Yes, Abagail is my first name,” She tried to reply in her normal professional voice, but even she could hear the way her voice cracked when she spoke her name.

Clearing her throat brought back her nameless patient’s pondering gaze, and she felt as if he was watching the way her lips moved.

“Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions? Some of them might be tough for you to answer.”

His facial expression never changed but he gave her a few jerky nods. It was the only reply he gave for any of the questions, even with Abagail giving plenty of time for responses.

“Can you tell me your name?” The doctor asked. Nothing, he just continued staring at her mouth.

“How did you get into that cage?” Still nothing.

“Who put you there?” He glanced towards her eyes and quickly away again, instead choosing to study the wall some more.

“Do you know how long you’ve been down there?” Nothing.

“Can you tell me anything about who kept you there?”

After another round of silence from her patient, Abagail sighed. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me,” She said in her softest tone.

His eyes darted in her direction again, but his gaze didn’t have time to find hers before the guards returned, the sound of their heavy boots breaking the stillness in Abagail’s office.

“Time to go, Nick Cage,” One of the guards said gruffly as they grabbed his arms and forced him out of his seat.

Dr. Clover rose to her feet, holding out a hand as if she could will the guards to be gentler. “Please, you don’t have to—“

But it didn’t matter, the guards pulled him to the door without even hearing her. Her patient didn’t give any resistance as he went, but his long neck twisted so he could give Abagail one last expressionless glance over his shoulder before he was shoved into the hallway.

Abagail let her arm drop to her side and she sank back into her chair, feeling defeated. She rubbed a hand over her eyes, distressed by the fact that she hadn’t made even a little bit of progress with her new patient. He had only said one word and it was her own name.

She grabbed her laptop from its bag and as it powered up, she slipped on her reading glasses. Once it was ready, Abagail opened a blank document and prepared to start her own file on her newest patient.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Just a quick little filler chapter.~

Time passed quickly. Abagail had observed so much and it wasn’t hard to jot it all down, especially with the memory of the kid’s haunting eyes still fresh in her mind. She was almost done with her report but even thinking about him with too much effort was enough to pause her brain activity.

“What is happening?” Abagail muttered to herself.

Her office phone rang, breaking her train of thought and causing her to jump and squeak out a sound of surprise.

She yanked the phone out of it’s handle and pressed it to the side of her face.

“Shawshank Prison Psychology Department, this is Dr. Clover speaking.”

“Doctor, I’m glad I caught you before you left,” Came a feminine voice from the other side of the phone. “This is Warden Porter speaking. I was hoping to see you in my office on your way out.”

Abagail glanced at the watch on her wrist, noticing how close it was to quitting time. “Of course,” she replied, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung up the phone and started to put away her things for the day, her mind once more drifting back to the new patient. She realized that they must have put him in a cell, and there was no telling what size cell he had been granted. She had half a mind to ask the new Warden what the hell she was thinking, locking up someone who had already been locked up for God knew how long. But Abagail wasn’t one for confrontation and she knew she would never call out Warden Porter in such a way.

With her laptop case in one hand, Abagail left her office for the night, flicking off the light on her way out. She made her way through the halls, this part of the prison mostly quiet because it was made up of offices. She didn’t visit often, but she knew the cells were farther into the building, and she was going in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later she approached the Warden’s office. She knocked lightly on the door before letting herself in.

Warden Porter was seated behind a large desk, much bigger than Abagail’s own, and she looked up as the doctor entered.

“I’m glad you could stop by,” The Warden said, gesturing at the chairs in front of her desk. “How was your first encounter with your newest patient?”

Abagail frowned as she took a seat, setting her bag next to her legs. “The one you found at the bottom of a water tank?” She asked, well aware that’s who the Warden meant.

Warden Porter at least had the decency to look bothered by this. “Did the prisoner tell you that?”

“No, the patient,” Abagail made sure to emphasize how she described him, “didn’t tell me anything. It was your guards that I overheard talking about it. So it’s true then?”

Abagail’s boss nodded quickly, as if unconcerned about where the kid came from. But her expression read a different story. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” Abagail replied, careful to leave out that the only thing he said was her name. “I never got a file for him either. I don’t even know his name.”

“Neither do we. Because he has no file, or record of ever being here. That’s why I was hoping he would say something to you.” The Warden sighed. She looked tired, and Abagail could understand why. Porter had been hired to fill the role of Warden Lacy, who had committed suicide only a week prior. And now this.

“He has no record of being here? But you’re keeping him in a cell?” Doctor Clover inquired, a little shocked by this realization.

“And what would you suggest I do otherwise?” Warden Porter snapped.

Abagail refused to be intimidated by the older woman. She sat up straighter in her chair as she replied. “You could release him into my care, or at least send him to the closest psychiatric hospital.”

Porter looked as if she genuinely hadn’t thought of those options. While she deliberated, Dr. Clover spoke again.

“Warden, how did he get down there?”

The other woman paused, looking rather distressed. “We think it was the late Warden Lacy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic violence in this chapter, and the violence only gets worse from here. You’ve been warned~

Driving home soon after her meeting with Warden Porter, Abagail felt a little dazed. So much had happened in the past six hours. Her mind kept drifting back to the kid, and she mentally kicked herself for not asking more about his accommodations for the night. What if they put him with an actual prisoner? Abagail had had her fair share of experiences with the inmates of Shawshank and obviously they weren’t star citizens.

She turned onto her street and could see her small rented house half way down the block. Fear gripped her when she saw her boyfriend’s car in her driveway. In the chaos of the day, she completely forgot that she had offered to make him dinner after work. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard as she pulled into her driveway and parked her car. She wasn’t that much later than she would normally be, so surely he wouldn’t be too upset.

Abagail grabbed her bag from the car and approached her door, the pale yellow color often comforting to her after a long day at work. She found the door unlocked and entered her home, locking it behind her out of habit.

Her living room was dark, the only light coming from the setting sun that snuck through the slim curtains.

“Hello? Mason?” She called, hesitantly taking a few steps away from the front door. She could feel a very primal part of herself that wanted to whine in distress when she didn’t receive a reply. Instead, she forced herself another couple steps, getting close enough to the couch to drop her bag on it.

There. She could see him through the archway into the kitchen, sitting at the table. A shadow fell over his face because the kitchen was as dark, if not darker, than the first room of her home.

A false sense of relief washed over her and before her brain could give her a safer plan of action, she took a few more steps forward. The small amount of light caught his eyes, making them gleam as he stared at her.

Abagail hesitated again. “Mason? I’m sorry I’m late, I got caught up at work,” She wanted to continue explaining, but didn’t want to get caught up in babbling.

He stood up so suddenly that Abagail didn’t have time to react. He quickly moved across the kitchen and was towering over of her, not as tall as the kid, but everyone was taller than her to some degree.

“Of course. You always put work in front of me,” He said, and his hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm.

Abagail squealed; his grip was tight and she tried in vain to pull away. “It’s not that, today was just extra crazy. They found a guy-“

“I don’t want to hear about any guys you’ve been slutting around with!” Mason was suddenly yelling into her face. He pulled her closer as he turned red.

“Mason, you’re hurting me!” She cried. Her mind flashed back to a similar situation, only a week before, when Mason had ‘bumped’ into her after a heated conversation. At least that’s what he had claimed. To Abagail it had felt like a shove, and the next day she had found a bruise from the impact of falling on a coffee table.

Still he held her arm and still she struggled, her mind racing. She had started to take notice for some time now how Castle Rock was affecting Mason. He had been born and raised here, and she swore it was changing him. Making him bitter, angrier at the smallest of things. Though, maybe he would be that way regardless of where he lived.

Only a few seconds had passed. “You think I’m hurting you now?” Mason said in what could only be described as a snarl.

The fright eating away at her stomach leapt into her throat and in that instant, her brain finally gave her a helpful hint. She twisted her arm away from Mason in a way that made him loosen his grip and suddenly she was free. Abagail spun on her heel and made a mad dash for her front door.

“You fucking bitch!” Mason roared and she knew he was right behind her, but she was so close to escaping. Abagail crashed against her front door, her right hand clawing and yanking at the door knob.

“No!” She screamed out loud before her frantic thoughts filled her head. ‘ _ Why did I deadbolt it?! Why did I _ -‘ There was a sudden explosion of pain near her right ear as Mason caught up with her and then sweet nothingness.


	4. Chapter 4

Abagail woke on her own couch and for a few beautiful moments her head swam around in blurred confusion. Then it all came rushing back to her and she sat up quickly enough to make herself dizzy. As she tried to quiet what felt like rushed wind in her brain, she simultaneously listened for any noise in her home. Was Mason still there or had he fled? Was he sitting at the kitchen table once more?

Moving too fast again, Abagail frantically looked over her shoulder at the kitchen. Empty.

After the dizziness passed, Abagail evaluated herself. She didn’t seem to have any injuries other than the ones she had been awake for. She tenderly lifted her shirt, already knowing what she would find there. A large dark bruise was already forming just above her hip, where she had been slammed against the doorknob. She tested her eyesight, trying to guess if she had a concussion or not. She decided that if she did, it was very minor.

She carefully rose from her couch and spent the next ten minutes searching her small home from top to bottom. There were no signs of Mason.

Her cellphone made itself known when it began buzzing in her purse, which had been discarded onto the floor. She dug it out, shocked to see she had two missed calls and that it was already well into the afternoon. Her screen declared it was her boss calling.

Warden Porter sounded panicked when Abagail answered.

“Doctor Clover, where have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning!” She exclaimed from the other end of the phone.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I-“ Abagail stopped short, suddenly aware that she had no valid excuse for not showing up to work. Her pause was so long that her boss said her name again in a questioning tone.

“Sorry, I’m here. I’m just not feeling very well and must have slept through my alarm.” Abagail said quickly.

Warden Porter was quiet for a moment, as if deliberating what she had said. Finally she spoke again.

“That’s perfectly fine. I just thought perhaps you were quietly quitting after meeting your new patient yesterday.”

Abagail was shocked. “What, no, of course not!” She began pacing her home, still a little paranoid about Mason hiding out.

“Good. Great, I’m glad to hear that. Do you need the rest of the day off?”

“No, I can come in, I’m feeling much better than I was.” She found herself in the bathroom and began checking herself for any visible bruising.

“Good. We’ve had a situation here. Involving your patient.”

“What? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, physically at least. We found his cell mate dead this morning, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle. Dr. Clover, I really need you to get him to talk.”

Abagail was shocked by what she’d been told. “Of course Warden, I’ll do whatever it takes. See you soon.”

* * *

 

The prison seemed quieter than normal when Abagail arrived less than an hour later. Perhaps it was her imagination but it felt as if the air inside the building was heavier somehow. After spending a few minutes in her small office, Abagail grabbed a pencil and a pad of paper and met her guarded escort in the hall.

There wasn’t much time left in the work day, so Abagail’s plan was to simply observe her patient. She walked in silence with the corrections officer, who carried a metal folding chair for her. Together they went through metal doors that locked loudly into place behind them.

Finally they reached what the prison claimed to be solitary, even though many of the cells housed two inmates at a time. The officer slowed his pace to a stop and set the chair down, opening it as he did so.

“There you go, Doc. I’d advise you don’t get close to the bars; these men are dangerous.”

Abagail wasn’t sure if that was quite true for her patient, but she didn’t much care what the guard had to say. She thanked him with a nod, already focused on the kid as she sat.

She placed her notepad on her lap and watched as the kid’s eyes followed the leaving guard. Once he was out of sight, the kid’s focus remained on the cell wall.

Not certain if he had noticed her yet, Abagail began to write down what she was observing. His eyes had a strange, far away look to them and for a moment Abagail felt like it wasn’t unlikely that he could still see the guard, even through walls of concrete and steel. He sat on the floor of the small cell directly next the cot. She thought it unusual but she quickly realized that he probably didn’t have anything but the floor in the cage he had been locked up in.

She wrote about what his body posture said to her. His shoulders were slumped and his head turned down slightly, with a small crease above his eyebrows. To her he looked like a trapped animal. She paused, her hand hovering over the paper as she looked at him. No, not trapped, because it wasn’t fear in his bulged eyes. It was quiet rage. He looked like a  _preying_ animal.

She swallowed down the primal terror that bubbled in her throat so quickly that she barely had time to recognize what it was. She finally spoke to him, not expecting much in the way of a reply.

“How are you today?” She asked, ignoring any stares or answers she received from the other inmates. She was only focused on the kid.

Slowly his mismatched eyes moved in her direction and she braced herself for the strange feeling that came with him looking her in the eyes.

Instead his gaze settled below her face. Abagail shifted in the cold, uncomfortable chair for a moment, trying to decide if the kid was staring at her chest. She thought that unlikely since there wasn’t really anything there, especially underneath the cardigan she wore. 

As she thought about it, his eyes moved lower. When the bruise next to her right hipbone gave her a pinch of pain, she became aware that he was looking at her stomach. But he couldn’t know about the bruise.  _Could he_?

Abagail felt her thoughts racing and she forced herself to focus. She had a job to do.

“If you want to talk today, I’d love to start with your name,” She used her most comforting tone in an attempt to persuade him. She got nothing in return.

“Maybe you could tell me about your cell mate? I was informed that he was found deceased this morning.”

On the last word, the kid’s wide eyes jumped to hers, and she was suddenly lost, just like the other times he had met her gaze. Abagail’s breath exhaled from her lips in a rush and even as her lungs ached for more air, she couldn’t seem to pull anymore in. It felt like she no longer knew who she was. She just couldn’t grab onto reality.

He spoke quietly. His voice wasn’t anything exceptional and somewhat monotone, but like his eyes forced her to focus on him, his voice forced her to listen.

“He  _hurt_ you.”

For a wild moment she thought he was talking about his dead cell mate. Of course he hadn’t hurt her, she hadn’t even known him.

She gasped in a breath of air that she had been craving as she realized what he meant by those three words. The bruise on her stomach. The way he had been looking at her as if he could see through her sweater and shirt. He knew what Mason had done the previous night. But how?  _How_?

There was a muffled bang from somewhere close by in the prison. The spell the kid had on Abagail was broken as he slowly tore his eyes away from hers to look in the direction of the noise. He didn’t look curious or confused, but  _expectant_ .


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, you’ll see something that happens in the show, but I’ve tweaked it for my own uses, and the timeline might not be perfect. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!  
> ~

Dr. Clover rose unsteadily from the folding chair, looking in the same direction as the kid. She felt dazed, much like how she felt when she woke up on the couch. And had the air become even heavier than when she had first arrived at work?  
“What- What was that?” She muttered.  
“Gunfire,” Came the reply from the kid. He hardly spoke above a whisper but despite the other inmates shouting, it was like Abagail was tuned in. She could hear him perfectly.  
There was another shot and Abagail jumped.   
“Jesus, gunfire?” She exclaimed. She kind of teetered on her heels, unsure of what she should do in a situation like this.  
Reality felt skewed and seconds seemed to stretch out into hours. The door at the end of the long hallway, the one she had come in from, abruptly slammed. This time Abagail didn’t just jump, she screamed in surprise.   
Rushing towards her was the same guard that had escorted her in. She turned to him, desperate to find something that felt real. Something that made sense. He appeared just as panicked as she felt as he came to a stop in front of her, a little out of breath.  
Another bang sounded and it was closer this time.  
“What’s happening?” She asked quickly.  
“I don’t know, no one does. I gotta get over there.” He started moving again, brushing passed her.  
“Wait, wait!” She shouted. “What should I do?”   
The guard didn’t even pause, almost as if he couldn’t hear her anymore and then he was gone, using a card to buzz himself through the door nearest to the sound of gun shots.  
Abagail stood there, shocked by the guard’s lack of concern for her. Slowly she turned around, a dazed look on her soft features, and looked at the opposite door. There. She should head that way, away from gun fire.  
“It’s locked. You’ll never get through,” The kid said, bringing her attention back to him. Another shot sounded, far too close now, and the inmates in the other cells were screaming at each other and at her. She cringed as the sound of shots started to pick up speed.  
The kid’s gaze left her face and settled on the floor just outside his cell. “I can protect you,” he said.  
Abagail followed his line of sight and was shocked to see a ring of keys on the floor. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options. Some part of her knew the doors on either side of the hallway were locked like the kid had said and she would just be wasting precious time if she tried to get out that way. But she couldn’t just stand frozen in the middle of the hall. More gun shots rang out.  
Without any other choices, she moved towards the keys. She was already bent at the waist, the sound of gunfire making her instinctively duck. Abagail reached out and at the same time the prisoner from the next cell stretched his arm through the bars, trying to beat her to the keys.  
The doctor withdrew her hand instinctively as she watched the prisoner freeze in place with his hand hovering over the keys. His fingers suddenly started to move in the opposite direction, away from his palm, until they were bent backwards in a grotesque way. Abagail slapped her hands over her mouth, gagging slightly when she clearly heard the bones in his hand snapping as his fingers tried to touch each other over his knuckles. The prisoner stared at her through the bars, his eyes wide with shocked pain and then he was screaming. Dr. Clover fell backwards onto her rear, her hands abandoning her mouth so they could press against her ears.  
The kid’s voice came from far above her, and still she could hear him perfectly.  
“Quickly Abagail.”  
There was a very small part of her brain that was still trying to be heard. It tried repeatedly to tell her to run, even if the outcome was finding the door locked at the end of the hall. Surely, that tiny voice reasoned, was better than locking herself inside of a cell with a man she couldn’t decide was dangerous or not. And even if he wasn’t psychically dangerous, hadn’t he given her enough reason to be wary?  
As if to prove this point, she realized she had the keys in her hand and no recollection of picking them up. Abagail felt almost in a trance and without looking she knew the kid was focused only on her as she all but scrambled to her feet and towards his cell door. Whimpers escaped from her lips as she unlocked the cell, because she was about to go into this cage with him? Or because the gun shots sounded like they were coming from the next room?  
The heavy bars opened out and the doctor didn’t let them get far before she slipped into the cell. In one fluid motion, the kid slammed the door shut again and grabbed her right shoulder in a large hand, easily shoving her backwards towards the bunk. Abagail’s calves hit the metal edge and she briefly shouted her pain, but instead of letting her fall, he held her shoulder tightly, forcing her to stay upright.  
She opened her mouth to try to say something, but the sound of the door in the hallway opening and closing cut her off. And then gun fire. She could hear prisoners screaming. Not just shouting, but screaming and begging for their lives; She could tell. Over the course of a few seconds, Abagail cringed away from the sound, distressed and shrinking back.  
The kid towered over her, his eyes pinning her in place, and lifted his hand from her shoulder to bring his pointer finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Her whimpers halted almost immediately and all that was left was her gasping breath trying to pull oxygen into her lungs. The air inside the kid’s cell was almost thick enough to grab.  
He slowly turned, facing the bars and giving Abagail his back. For a split second she had an urge to hurt him, to claw at him to see if he bled like a human, or if something else would happen.  
The feeling passed and she was left staring straight ahead at the fabric of his jumpsuit.   
Though thin, the kid’s frame still blocked her from view of anyone who might have passed outside the bars, in this case the shooter.  
Another shot sounded and she knew the prisoner housing in the next cell over was dead. Abagail shoved her knuckles into her mouth to muffle the scream that jumped up her throat. And then it was quiet. Without thinking, the doctor reached out with her free hand and grabbed a fistful of the kid’s prison jumper. He didn’t react.  
With one hand pressed hard against her mouth and the other gripping the kid’s clothes, Abagail chanced a peek around him. Standing on the other side of the cell was a guard, a gun in his hand but lowered slightly. He was staring at the kid through the bars, and looked like he was in the same trance that Abagail felt like she was in.  
She suddenly remembered his first name was Dennis but couldn’t recall his last name. Slowly, almost lazily, the guard moved his eyes from the kid and refocused on Abagail. Except he didn’t seem focused at all.  
She gasped, her eyes wide as she peered out from just above the kid’s elbow. Fear froze her in place and she could only watch as the guard twitched, especially the arm that held the gun. It was as if he was having an internal struggle on whether he should kill her or not. He trembled, his mouth soundlessly opening and closing a few times.  
And then he moved on, as if he had never even seen Abagail and the kid. The guard had no issues raising the gun, squeezing the trigger, and firing a shot into the next cell. Abagail gave out a muffled scream, her knuckles still pressed against her front teeth, and squeezed her eyes shut.  
The sound of the gun continued, steadily getting further away. Each shot brought Abagail to a new level of stress until she was whimpering again, tears pouring out of her clenched eyes. After some time she heard the door she had wanted to bolt through opening and closing. And then silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the start of when things start to get a little uncomfortable. Read at your own risk and enjoy!

The kid turned slowly, the fabric of his jumpsuit tugging out of Abagail’s grip. Finally opening her eyes, she first stared straight ahead at his chest, and then looked up and up to his mismatched eyes. He peered at her face while she pulled her hand from her mouth, a thin layer of drool coating her skin.  
“He hurt you,” the kid said for the second time, but so much had happened since the first time that she forgot all about his strange and shocking way of knowing about Mason. Instead her mind went to the shooter. The kid knew that she wasn’t hurt because he had willingly used his body as a shield.  
“No, he-“ And then it dawned on her all over again. “How do you know about Mason?” She asked, her breath shallow and her voice raspy.  
The kid stepped impossibly closer to her, towering over her much smaller frame. There should have been some kind of body warmth radiating from him but there was nothing. In fact the thick air was almost colder in his cell than it was in the rest of the building. Slowly, he reached out his left hand while keeping her where he wanted using just his gaze.  
Abagail shrank away as her eyes locked with his, but there was no where for her to go. He placed his huge hand against her stomach, his palm almost caressing where her uterus lay underneath her pale skin and inside her body. His thumb pressed surprisingly soft against the large bruise on her hip. It felt like his hand covered the entire expanse of her flat stomach and the tips of his too long fingers reached down, brushing against her clit.  
The whine that left her lips was high pitched and accompanied by a chill that raced up her spine. Still he kept her pinned with his eyes but it wasn’t lust she saw there. Instead it was possession that glinted from his eyes and a part of her knew, could feel that he had somehow come to own her.  
“He shouldn’t have been here,” The kid told her, the only indication of emotion on his face came from the way his heavy brows were pulled together. Her mind was still reeling and she couldn’t make sense of his words. Was he still talking about Mason? Or the guard who had murdered everyone but them?  
His oversized hand inched lower down her stomach, his fingers shoving their way between her thighs until he covered and cupped her cunt. He squeezed hard.  
Abagail gave a gut-wrenching cry, bending towards him and jutting her hips backwards, instinctively trying to get away from the offending hand. But his long arm easily kept her in reach and he didn’t let go. Instead he tightened his grip and dug the heel of his hand into her lower stomach.  
“It shouldn’t be here,” He said and this time she somehow knew what he was talking about. How could it be though? Mason was always careful about using protection. There was a twinge in her abdomen, under the heel of the kid’s heavy hand, and she knew it to be true. Somehow she and Mason had slipped up and she was pregnant. Her brain functioned long enough to spit out a fact: Abagail was three days late for her period.  
With tears running down her face, she stared up at him, trembling as she spoke the one word she could force through her lips.  
“Please...”  
She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. For him to stop squeezing her so hard? Was she begging for her life because it felt as if he could take it from her in an instant? Was she pleading for the cells forming inside her, underneath his huge hand, cells that would eventually create a baby? Or was she just begging to be let out of his cell?  
Suddenly an alarm rang through the prison, making Abagail jump in surprise. But it made sense. Of course there would be a siren after a mass slaughter committed by one of the prison’s own guards. The kid’s eyes left her face, looking a little surprised himself at the loud noise. But still his hand stayed between her legs, as if he wasn’t willing to let her go completely.   
His bulging eyes moved to the low ceiling, as if trying to pinpoint where exactly the noise was coming from and in that moment Abagail was free. At least from the mental hold he so easily kept her in. At least momentarily. Her mind lurched, as if shouting out all of the things it had been keeping quiet since the whole interaction had started.  
The first thought she grabbed onto and dissected quickly was the fact that the kid had a kind of control over her. It was stronger when she was looking directly into his eyes, but only faded slightly when she wasn’t. Abagail hadn’t been making direct eye contact when she grabbed those keys and that wasn’t a choice she had made consciously.  
Another thought followed on that one’s heels. Clearly the kid possessed an ability other people did not. Abagail was no idiot; she was well aware that she let people figuratively walk over her but this wasn’t the same. Other people didn’t control her with their mind.  
Her memory staggered across the fact that she had survived a mass shooting. A large part of her couldn’t process it and was suffering psychologically from it, but she knew the kid had forced that guard to move past them. He controlled him in the same way he was controlling her.  
Only seconds had passed when her frazzled mind landed on a singular thought and she figured out what it was she had been pleading for; She had to get out of his cell.  
The kid abruptly looked down at her and Abagail whimpered, convinced that he had heard her thoughts. Tears leaked from her eyes and joined the rest of her wet face. His huge hand relaxed against her cunt and he removed it from between her legs, only to raise it to her face. The dull expression on his face never changed. His thumb pressed into her cheek in an uncomfortable way, sliding through the tears that clung to her skin, and his fingers dug tightly into the back of her skull. Abagail felt even more vulnerable with her head in his hand, like he could snap her neck with a twist of his wrist. Something about him invited violence and it radiated from him the way body heat should have. The longer she spent with him the more it seemed that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to hurt her.  
“I’m going to fix it,” He told her, and she whimpered again. Abagail wasn’t interested in finding out how the kid fixed things. She didn’t even know exactly what he meant. Fix what? She felt a need to protect herself as well as what she now knew was growing inside her womb. Her hands moved down to her stomach, right where his much larger hand had started on her abdomen, as if defending what lay underneath.  
His eyes dropped from her soaked face to where her hands were and Abagail felt like screaming. She wanted to shout at him not to look, to keep his bulging, mismatched eyes away from her, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.  
The alarm continued to blare and was suddenly joined by the slamming of a heavy door.   
Quick moving footsteps began to approach. The kid slowly let his hand drop from Abagail’s face and he moved around her, stepping in a half circle so he was near the wall she had originally found him leaning against. For too long, she couldn’t force her body to move even though her brain demanded it. She was left in that daze, forced to internally fight herself so she could wade through her mind’s fog and take a step towards the cell door. By the time she reached for the bars, the owners of the footsteps had arrived.  
“Put your fucking hands where I can see them,” a guard yelled.  
Another guard shouted over the first. “It’s the doctor! We found the doctor!”  
And then they were all yelling, throwing open the cell door, some of them grabbing her and the others swarming into the small space to roughly shove the kid against the wall and handcuff him.  
They pulled her out of the cell, mostly blocking her view from the kid. Even so she caught glimpses of him from between the bodies and shoulders of the guards surrounding her and could see the kid straining to look at her. He wasn’t resisting but the guards continued to shove and Abagail wanted to tell them that he had saved her. Maybe it was the mental hold he had over her, something she could still feel without his eyes on her, but nonetheless it was true.  
She didn’t get a chance to speak, and she wouldn’t have been heard over the shouting of the guards even if she had tried. Instead she let them pull her through the halls of the prison, her eyes cast down so she wouldn’t have to witness the carnage that she had evaded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took forever, but here’s chapter 7. Enjoy!

The next few hours passed in a blur. Abagail was brought into the Warden’s office where she was asked the same questions over and over. They seemed confused about her decision to lock herself in a cell with the kid, but no one seemed to put the blame on her. Instead, they offered her two weeks of paid vacation. Abagail gladly accepted.

She spent the next week in bed, only leaving it for the necessities and answering work calls.

On the seventh day of her “vacation”, she received a call from the psychologist filling in for her at Shawshank. He expressed his concern over the kid not receiving the treatment he needed. He suggested that they send the kid to the closest psychiatric hospital, Juniper Hills. Abagail agreed that it was the best decision and a small part of her felt relief that she wouldn’t have to face the kid when she went back to work. He was someone else’s problem now.

On the eighth day, Abagail woke to morning sickness. She jumped from her bed and bolted to her bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet in time before the vomit climbed up her throat. 

While she retched in the bathroom, the television in her bedroom flicked on. The sound of static filled her room, and then her house, the channels on the screen changing quickly. Abagail furrowed her brows in confusion, unsure of what the noise was. She stood, flushing the toilet as she did, before following the sound into her bedroom.

The channels stopped changing and the screen just showed bright grey snow. It cast a dim glow across Abagail’s room and illuminated the beads of sweat on her forehead as she stared at the tv. 

“What the hell?” She muttered. She took a step forward, wanting to turn off the obviously broken television, but as she did, a news channel came into focus.

The female anchor’s voice blared from the television’s speakers, loud enough to make Abagail shout in surprise and slap her hands over her ears.

“...fire at Juniper Hills Psychiatric Hospital. Fourteen declared dead,” Came the too loud voice. Abagail stared, her eyes going wide. “Authorities have released a picture of the suspect, but no name.” On one side of the screen appeared a picture of none other than the kid.

“Oh no,” Abagail whimpered, her eyes glued to the tv, “Oh no, God no—“

The television switched off just as there was a pounding knock on Abagail’s front door. 

The doctor slowly turned, fear gripping her tightly as she made her way down the hall and towards her living room. She rounded the corner and stared at the yellow door, scared that if she opened it, the kid would be standing there, ready to control her with his unflinching gaze.

The loud knocking came again, this time accompanied by a voice; Mason’s voice.

“Abby, open up! Please!”

She hadn’t thought about him in days, and her relief that it wasn’t the kid got her legs to start moving again. She crossed her living room and threw open the door.

She gasped at Mason. He had lost a significant amount of weight, more than any human had a right to lose in just over a week. The clothes he wore were dirty and hung loosely off of his body. His face was drawn and pale, except for the bright red scratches that started on his eyelids and ended low on his cheeks.

“Mason, what happened to you?” Abagail exclaimed, making room so he could stumble into her home.

“Something isn’t right,” He said instead of answering her question, and made his way towards her kitchen.

Clearly she could see that something wasn’t right. “What do you mean?” She asked, trailing behind him.

“My eyes,” he answered. “Something’s wrong with my eyes!”

The anxiety that had built up when the television started to go crazy returned to Abagail. “You scratched them, Mason,” She said in a gentle tone.

“I know that!” He suddenly yelled, rounding on her and grabbing one of her wrists. “Something’s wrong with them! What did you do?!”

Abagail cried out, partially angry at herself for allowing this situation to happen again. But mostly she was scared that this time he would do worse than knock her out.

Abagail stumbled over her words as she tried not to enrage him further. “Are you having trouble seeing?”

“No!” He shouted and let go of her wrist. “There’s something in them or, or—“ He raised his hands to his face and began scratching near his eyes, hard enough that beads of blood appeared on his eyelids.

“Mason, stop!” Abagail exclaimed, reaching for his hands. But he was taller and stronger then her, and avoided her grasping hands.

Instead of words, Mason just shouted, roaring like a trapped predator. He turned from Abagailand began throwing open her kitchen cabinets and drawers, letting things clatter onto the floor. Abagail cringed, hopping a little in place as she tried to protect her bare shins and feet from the wreckage.

He blindly threw plates to the floor, not concerned at all as they shattered everywhere. Finally, after minutes of this, he seemed to find what he was looking for. Mason held up a serrated knife and stopped yelling.

“Mas- Mason, what’re you doing?” Abagail asked, taking a step back, suddenly fearing that he would use the knife on her.

“I’m going to fix it,” He told her as he turned to face her. Abagail’s breath hitched in her throat and she brought her hands to her belly. It was the same words the kid had said to her when she was locked in his cell with him.

And like the kid had done before, Mason watched her hands go to her stomach. He raised the knife.

“Mason, no!” Abagail shrieked. There was no where for her to go, her back pressed against the kitchen counter.

He brought his arm down in one violent thrust and buried the knife deep into his left eye. Immediately blood poured out, gushing over his face and soaking his shirt within seconds.

Abagail screamed again, this time without words. Mason pulled the knife out of his eye, prompting more blood to spill down his face.

“Make it stop, Abagail!” He yelled, blood bubbling on his lips as he looked at her frantically with his remaining eye.

“I don’t know how!” Abagail yelled back. Tears soaked her face and she wanted to reach out to help him but her instinct was to run as far away as she could.

The chance to act on the latter impulse came when he stumbled towards her, arms open and one hand still clutching the knife. Abagail ducked underneath one outstretched arm and made a mad dash for the hallway.

Instead of running away, Abagail immediately crashed into something solid filling the archway to the hallway and blocking her path.

Before she could even register the baggy white tee covering the chest that she had run into, Abagail knew it was the kid. It didn’t make sense, but she suddenly understood why her television had acted the way it had and why Mason had come to her house completely out of his mind.

“No, no...” She whispered as she looked up at the towering figure’s face, where his dull eyes bore into hers and trapped her. “Please,” She breathed out the word in a shudder.

“I told you I would fix it. I’m going to fix everything.” The kid said in his monotone voice. His appearance of tranquility in the face of Abagail’s panic made her want to scream. But if she started, would she be able to stop? She whimpered and bit her lip instead. Behind her Mason panted heavily.

“Help him,” Abagail begged weakly. She could feel her free will slipping away with every second spent under his gaze.

“I am helping him,” the kid insisted. He raised his hands and engulfed Abagail’s biceps with his oversized palms, his long fingers easily wrapping around her arms.

She hardly resisted as the kid began to turn her. Even if he wasn’t so clearly bigger and stronger than her, his presence engulfed her, engulfed her entire small house, and she had no choice. He turned her around until her back was facing him and she could once again see the wreckage of her kitchen.

Mason stood in the middle of the strewn silverware, broken plates, and a puddle of his own blood. He was watching Abagail and the kid with his one eye, completely still and the knife clutched in his hand. He seemed to sway on his feet, his face pale from the blood he’d lost.

“Mason, please,” Abagail muttered just as he raised the knife again. He repeated the same action as before, but this time he plunged the kitchen knife deep into his neck.

Abagail shrieked and brought her hands up to cover her eyes, but the kid was quicker. He caught her hands in his own and forced them back down.

“See what I’ve done for you?” He breathed onto the back of her head, into her hair that was damp with sweat. His immense hands held onto hers so tightly it hurt.

“No,” She moaned. Her legs felt weak and her knees buckled beneath her. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Mason dropped his hands to his sides and fell to his knees, the blood soaked knife still jutting from his throat. Abagail followed suit, hitting her knees hard on the tiled floor. The kid crouched, hovering over her, and his hands continued to grip hers hard enough that her slender fingers creaked in protest.

“For you, Abagail,” Came the kid’s voice from behind and above her.

Mason seemed to be trying to speak, but only blood spat from his lips. He blinked for a long time before simply falling forward, life leaving his body.

Abagail sobbed and screamed, trying to reach uselessly towards the corpse, but the kids hands still engulfed hers and all she could do was slouch forward, grief rocking her small frame.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been months, writer’s block is a bitch. I’m very excited that rewatching season 1 of Castle Rock and now with season 2 airing, I’ve gotten inspiration again.
> 
> As always, make sure to read the tags before continuing.
> 
> Enjoy!

They stayed like that for a long time, in the carnage of Abagail’s kitchen with the company of Mason’s dead body. At some point the kid let go of her hands and she slumped forward onto the linoleum, as if she were doing a morbid yoga pose. Eventually she had no more tears to cry and was reduced to a shivering, trembling mess on the floor.   
The kid continued to crouch behind Abagail, the late morning sun stretching in through the window to cast his long shadow over her. He watched her silently and without expression or emotion.  
Finally he rose to his towering height, one shoulder pulling up higher than the other, and his mismatched eyes stayed on her.  
“You need to clean this up. I’ll take Mason,” the kid spoke into the dead silence of her kitchen.  
Abagail raised her head from the floor and pushed herself to a kneeling position. Her head swam as she turned to look at him and the sound of rushing blood pounded into her ears, causing her to feel faint for a few seconds.  
“Take him where?” Her voice was raw and wouldn’t come out louder than a whisper. A small part of her brain urged her to call the police or an ambulance, or both. She suddenly had no idea where her phone was.  
“We can’t call the police Abagail,” He said, as if he had read her mind. Maybe he had. He met her gaze and continued. “They’ll blame it on you.”  
“They wouldn’t,” She whispered hesitantly. Was he right? She was trapped by his eyes like a pinned bug. She shook her head, helpless as she tried to regain her will to think logically. “Would they?”  
The kid simply nodded and moved passed her. He crouched next to Mason’s body and without effort scooped the corpse into his impossibly long arms. Though the kid was skinny and the deadweight must have weighed more than him, he didn’t seem to have any trouble holding Mason bridal style, the dead man’s bloodied head flopping uselessly. A tingle of fear crept down Abagail’s spine.  
“Where are you taking him?” Abagail choked through a sob that wanted to leave her throat.  
The kid only spent a moment peering at her before heading towards the laundry room, where a back door would lead the kid and the corpse to the acres of forest behind her house.  
“Clean the kitchen,” He said before he left, the sound of the door closing deafening in her still house.  
She only continued to sit there, staring at the bloody puddle where Mason had been. Sure, a part of her hated him for all the times he had put his hands on her, but a small part of her loved him. She felt a great weight of guilt, both for loving a monster and for not being able to help him.   
With no more tears to cry and the lingering feeling of numbed thoughts that the kid always left her with, Abagail rose unsteadily to her feet and headed to the laundry room. For a moment she peered out the windowed back door but the kid had already vanished. She reached out with numb fingers and locked the door, but that small part of her knew it wouldn’t keep him out. Nothing would keep him out if he wanted in.  
As if she were on autopilot, Abagail gathered supplies to clean the kitchen; a broom and mop, rubber gloves, rags, sponges, a bucket, and bleach. She returned to the kitchen and got to work.   
Shards of glass were picked up along with her silverware and any dish that had managed to stay whole in the wreckage. She debated just throwing away the knife Mason had used on himself; it made her sick to her stomach to even look at. But she tossed it into the sink filled with bleach with the rest of the silverware before she rinsed everything and loaded the dishwasher.  
As the hum of the appliance cut through the dead silence of her home, Abagail realized just how sick she really felt. Her stomach cramped unpleasantly and she felt dizzy, and though warning bells were ringing in her swimming head, she ignored them and assumed it was the fumes from the bleach. But she had to finish cleaning; blood was still splattered across her kitchen floor.   
She didn’t know how long she was on her knees, scrubbing every inch of the linoleum floor until the water in the bucket was swirling with the color or crimson. Finally she rose to her feet, sweating, pale, and trembling. The room spun as she looked down.  
There on the spot of the floor where she had just been was a pool of blood. She blinked hard, confused. She had just made sure she had gotten up all the blood, how could there be more? A terrible cramp seized her and she doubled over, almost falling back to her knees.  
Horror dawned across her face as she realized there was blood on the inside of her thighs, thick as it trailed down her legs and onto the floor. She was losing the life growing inside of her. It had to be the stress of that morning, of watching Mason kill himself. She stumbled towards the hallway, suddenly desperate to find her phone, and remembered the way the kid had touched her abdomen inside of his cell. Had he killed the baby then? And was her body now ridding itself of what it deemed as waste?  
An ugly sob forced itself out of her throat as she clung to the wall of the hallway and forced herself to stay upright. This had to be a gruesome nightmare. It couldn’t be happening. How could this be her life?  
As she reached the doorway to her bedroom, her shaking legs gave out and she fell to the floor, smearing blood on the carpeted floor. But she could see her phone on her bed, she just had to reach it. She rose to her knees, gasping in air and forcing herself to stay conscious as the corners of her eyes grew dark.  
She gripped the side of her bed until her knuckles turned white and grasped with the other hand. Her fingers brushed her cellphone and then she had it. Falling back to the floor, Abby blinked her eyes hard.  
“C’mon,” she breathed, and unlocked her phone so she could call 911. The blackness in the corners of her eyes grew, almost comforting. If she blacked out, she wouldn’t have to fight against her failing body anymore.  
“911, what’s your emergency?” A voice on the line answered.  
“Help... bleeding,” Abagail had to force the words to be louder than a whisper.  
Suddenly she heard the knob at the back door rattling. Abagail vaguely remembered locking it and knowing it was pointless, and how right she was. The door opened as the operator replied.  
“Ma’am, who’s bleeding? Are you hurt? Ma’am, are you in danger?”  
The kid’s footsteps were moving towards her bedroom.  
“Yes,” she whispered into the phone, her reply mostly meant for the last question. “Help.”   
She didn’t know if she had been on the line long enough for the dispatcher to track her location, but she ended the call and threw her phone under her bed. A moment later the kid’s shadow fell over her limp body laying facedown on the floor. She had just enough energy left in her to turn her head and look up at his mismatched eyes before sweet unconsciousness took her under.


End file.
